Reversal of Fortunes
by Qweb
Summary: For once, Danny gets to drive.


_Just a little something to brighten the post holiday doldrums._

**Reversal of Fortunes**

For a change, Danny Williams was driving his own car when he and his partner, Steve McGarrett, cruised into a light industrial area that had grown up in an older part of Hawaii where the streets were narrow and crisscrossed with even narrower alleys.

"Turn right down the next alley," Steve instructed, studying the map on his smartphone. "He said he'd meet us behind the furniture factory."

"No one's likely to spot us there," Danny agreed.

As he made the turn, the detective's sharp eyes surveyed the neighborhood, while his mind kept a running catalog of what he saw. (Yes, Danny talks to himself even when he's not talking out loud.)

Empty except for a towering hopper and a precarious pile of pallets, a sand and gravel company's loading dock backed up to the alley. Big trucks must really have to maneuver to back into the loading area, he thought. Dumpsters made the alley even narrower than it ought to be. If he met a car coming the other way, he'd be in trouble. Furniture factory was coming up.

"Where's our informant?" he asked aloud.

"I don't …" Steve started.

Their man was shoved out from behind a dumpster by a man carrying an AK47, while a heavy pickup roared out of a driveway to block the alley.

As Danny jammed on the brakes, the informant collapsed beside the alley wall. Two men with more AK47s popped to their feet in the back of the pickup. They aimed their automatic rifles over the top of the cab.

"Trap!" Steve yelled, feeling helpless as he drew his pistol in a futile gesture against such heavy firepower.

"Hang on, Captain Obvious!" Danny yelled and jammed the Camaro into reverse.

The car rocketed backwards down the alley. The three AK47s fired — where the Camaro used to be, sending up spurts of dirt.

Steve clutched at the dashboard, watching the attackers behind — er — in front of the fleeing Camaro. By the time they adjusted their aim upwards, the Camaro was out of range. The gunman on foot dived into the pickup bed and the truck roared after them.

All his attention aimed over his shoulder, Danny weaved around dumpsters, never lifting his foot from the gas pedal.

"They're coming," Steve warned.

There was no room to turn and it would have wasted time, anyway. Danny aimed for the street where he'd have some room to maneuver, then a dump truck blocked his way backing into the sand and gravel loading dock.

Danny's eyes met the terrified gaze of the trucker.

Danny spun the wheel in a left turn, zooming past the dump truck's fender with a micro millimeter to spare. He zipped backwards into the loading yard, sideswiping the tower of pallets, sending them topping across the open space. With space to maneuver, Danny spun the car in a moonshiner's turn so the Camaro was heading forward in the direction it had been going backwards. Perhaps he was out of practice, because the car slowed almost to a stop before zooming forward again. Danny raced around a mound of sand in the yard and headed back toward the entrance, but he had to jam to a halt, when the pursuing pickup stopped between the sand pile and the fallen pallets and blocked the only escape.

The men standing in the pickup bed steadied themselves and took aim at the car. Gloating, the two men in the cab climbed out with their AK47s at the ready, and then they all realized there was only one man in the Camaro. Danny waved cheerfully.

A whistle drew their attention from the side. A little dizzy from the high-speed spin but stable on his feet, Steve stood beside the controls of the gravel hopper. The attackers looked up and realized The position of the fallen pallets and the Camaro put their pickup directly under the outlet. Steve hauled on the lever and gravel rained down on the attackers.

"I can increase the flow," Steve shouted over the patter of falling rocks, as Danny left the Camaro and drew his gun. "Drop your weapons!"

Realizing that the painful rain could easily become a killing avalanche, the attackers threw their guns away. Steve shut off the flow, but stood ready to renew it if the men showed any fight. Knee deep in gravel, the men were easily subdued and handcuffed by Danny.

Steve called for assistance and HPD arrived to take the men into custody and help the unlucky informant who was battered, but still alive.

After the police took the suspects away, Steve approached Danny who was examining the Camaro for damage. (It was unscathed.)

"Wow, I mean, wow!" Steve said, looking at his partner in admiration.

"OK, I don't mind when you say 'wow' in that tone of voice," Danny said with a grin.

"I didn't know you could drive like that!" Steve said.

"You hardly give me a chance!" Danny retorted tartly. "Is there some part of 'patrol officer' and 'street cop' that you never understood? I was trained in pursuit driving, Steve. Then they tapped me to chauffeur dignitaries around, so I took escape and evasion courses."

"But backwards?"

Danny waved a hand, as if driving backwards was no big deal; then his eyes twinkled.

"I'd have mentioned it before, but I thought you knew," he said with an excess of innocence that made Steve wary.

"Why's that?" the commander asked.

"It was practically the first thing you said to me," Danny answered.

"What…?"

Danny grinned and answered. "That I'm the backup!"


End file.
